


citrus

by dr_awkward221



Series: when every 'no' turns into 'maybe' [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Lack of Communication, Light Angst, M/M, Miya Atsumu is Lonely, Miya Atsumu-centric, Post-Time Skip, but full of love so we forgive him for being depressed, i mean how do you ship sakuatsu if you havent read it? what are you doing here? go read it, if you're still reading the tags i'm sorry i always end up rambling here, leave me be, lemons have a metaphorical meaning but they're also just lemons, no beta we die like illiterate men, the boys are fightiiiin, they do love each other a lot and i'm sad, they're both lonely actually because i project, volleyball bullshit i made up on the spot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27230002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_awkward221/pseuds/dr_awkward221
Summary: "So!” Atsumu exclaimed, “What's gotten you so serious?""It's just my mother.""What 'bout her?" he asked, raising a hand to rest it on his back. He figured it was a safe move, since he'd just showered. In fact Sakusa didn't move, nor made any attempt at pushing him away. He almost seemed to relax a little bit. Atsumu started tracing imaginary lines connecting the moles on his skin, his favourite game of dot to dot."She invited us to dinner."or: lemon cake, unnecessary Osamu praising, Bokuto's good advice, and a fair share of the good ol’ bad communication.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: when every 'no' turns into 'maybe' [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988017
Comments: 18
Kudos: 408





	citrus

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO! Welcome to part TWO of my brain worms getting the best of me :D it's not a sequel to the first, but it's set in the same universe(?), meaning that they are sort of linked. This one here fills in some gaps i hadn't yet tought about while writing golden ties, mostly related to the twins lol but also wow a fight!  
> -  
> i was this 👌 close to go the extra mile and write a nsfw bit (you'll find where it was supposed to be when you get there), but in the end i scrapped it because i was too uncomfortable writing it lmao so the rating in my head now dropped to teen and up, but I actually know nothing of how rating works so if you have any complaints just let me know and I can change it... Anyway, it's just a nice make out sesh now, and i'm happier this way.  
> -  
> Here goes, hope you enjoy it, and don't get too mad at them for being idiots 💛
> 
> [ EDIT (this note is now at the beginning so i don't confuse more people with my dumbassery): I have been informed that the panthers are the team the jackals were based on lmao rip to me ajdaljdflkjd ANYWAY for the sake of consistency let's just pretend the jackals are NOT ALSO in Osaka because that would just make no sense at all lol thank you for your consideration and sorry to the people who actually know anything about the matter and who had to read through my being an idiot ]

<<< _prologue_ >>>

Atsumu remembered the first time he met Sakusa Kiyoomi like it was yesterday. He had seen him sulk in a corner of the entrance hall at the All Japan Youth training camp, he remembered thinking ‘ _woah, one of the top three spikers of the_ nation’, and ‘ _what a weirdo_ ’, because he’d been _in a corner_ , glaring at everyone who passed by. He remembered the first time he saw him hit a super nasty cross spike that changed trajectory midway, remembered the way he had showed off his gross wrist movements afterwards, remembered smelling the sharp aroma of his hand sanitizer before even seeing him, and remembered him flinching away from him, a thousand times, every time he had tried talking to him, really. He remembered looking, from a safe distance, and thinking ‘ _he’s so cool and he’s got to be that pretty too, s’not fair_ ’. 

He remembered getting back home and complaining about it to Osamu, who had just rolled his eyes and said: "Ya’ll get over it." They both knew the way Atsumu was quick to get crushes, and that he was just as quick to get over them, and fall in love all over again the following week. 

So he got over him.

Kind of. For a while. 

Let’s say that he had managed to mostly forget about him (at least when he wasn’t seeing him play matches at the Interhigh, or god forbid play against Itachiyama the following year, he couldn’t _not think_ about him, then), and get a good number of other crushes in the meantime to make up for it. 

There was Kita (who if Atsumu had to be honest had been there for a while, ever since first year, because who wouldn’t fall a little in love with Kita anyway? Any sane person who had functioning eyes and a half decent brain would), there was that one girl who managed to shush everyone in the stands before his turn to serve (he’d actually asked her number after the match and managed to lose it on the way between the stadium and the hotel), there was that one barista, that guy on a bike he almost ran over with his car, and a good number of ‘ _no_ ’s. 

He was used to rejections, too. It didn’t bother him much. He didn’t really care about what people thought of him, so getting a ‘no, I don’t like you’ had never been a problem for him.

He was above other people, the crushes he got were fleeting and idiotic and he knew it. Nobody was important to him in the grand scheme of things, nobody was worth the effort it took to actually maintain a relationship. 

Except. 

Sakusa Kiyoomi was different. 

Sakusa didn’t pass. He lingered, underneath the crushes and the heartbreaks and all the tuna he ate to forget about both. 

He saw him in the news, MVP at the Japan National Collegiate Volleyball Championship, and he fumed. Osamu had stopped caring about his crushes somewhere along the way, maybe after he started dating Suna, but Atsumu was still complaining. Why wasn’t it going away? Why did all his crushes pass in a day or two and _he_ wasn’t leaving him alone? 

Then, the culmination of all his suffering: MSBY Black Jackals recruitment season. Enter Hinata Shoyo, and enter Sakusa Kiyoomi as well. Atsumu was standing in the middle of a nuclear reactor imploding on itself and kept smiling through it all.

Sakusa, of course, still hated him. And Atsumu, always hungry for challenges, had decided he wouldn’t leave him alone until they became friends, and had told him that, with a bronze face and a stupid wink. Sakusa had looked at him like he was a left-over sandwich forgotten on the only table available to sit at, and not even a week later, at a fan meeting event, he tripped, because it was the first time he saw Sakusa wearing sharp clothes that weren’t sports wear, and it was just too much. He tripped on his own feet and fell face first to the floor of the venue and of course there were cameras pointed at him from every direction and he didn’t even want to know if there was a video already circulating on the web. He just wanted to die and, most of all, wanted to forget about it. Forget about _him_.

So Atsumu turned the other way. He set to Hinata, and he’d been waiting for this moment for five years (give or take), and he loved it. It was amazing. Hinata was amazing. He fell in love a little bit (because really, who wouldn’t?) and he thought that maybe this was his chance, he could finally forget about Sakusa and his stupid pretty hair and awful strong arms and his horrible freaky wrists. And so, he flirted. And he felt like an idiot for most of it, because it all passed over Hinata’s head. He was just so nice and warm and gave the best hugs (maybe only second to Bokuto because damn him if he didn’t love being squished against Bokuto’s chest). But Hinata… Hinata was just really good. Atsumu thought he could change for him, he could start being a different person, be kinder, be sweet, if it would make Hinata love him. And he tried. He even asked Sakusa for advice, since he seemed like a sound and sensible person. It didn’t work. There had always been someone else.

Atsumu complained, and since there was no Osamu to be at the receiving end of it, he had to complain to Sakusa, and he wa amazingly good at receives. He bore with him and stayed by his side, keeping him from falling into total despair. It was then that it clicked, maybe. No matter how many crushes he’d get, Atsumu knew Sakusa was always going to be there. He didn’t know what was different about him, but something was. 

Atsumu had never cared about other people, but he realized he cared about Sakusa Kiyoomi. 

A year later, believe it or not (he sure had trouble wrapping his head around it, sometimes), they started dating. 

>>><<<

_March 2021._

Atsumu came out of the bathroom after his shower barefooted and bare-everything-else too since he'd forgotten his clean clothes inside the bag he'd deposited in Sakusa's bedroom upon arrival. He’d at least had the decency to wrap a towel around his waist, which was exactly his comeback if Sakusa were to complain about him walking around in such a lewd manner. _I could'a gone without the towel, would've liked that better, wouldn'tcha?_ He could already picture the embarrassed flush creeping up Sakusa's cheeks and was smiling victoriously to himself when he crossed the bedroom door, and realized that he probably wasn't going to get scolded, tonight. 

Sakusa was sitting on the edge of the bed with only his pajama pants on, as if he’d been interrupted halfway through getting ready for bed, bare back turned to the door, slightly hunched forward in a tense manner that Atsumu had learned to recognise. 

He approached the bed quietly, and climbed on from his side, reaching Sakusa's shoulder and peaking at the phone he was holding in his hands from above it. The screen was black. 

"Omi? What's wrong?" he asked. 

Sakusa just breathed for a second, slow and deliberate, then turned around to look at him. He opened his mouth to reply, but then he stopped himself, eyes travelling down and eyebrows scrunching up. "Are you naked?" he asked with contempt.

"Geez, thought ya'd be happier about it. Thought ya liked my—"

"Why are you naked?" There wasn't even a hint of blush on his cheeks and Atsumu rolled his eyes, letting himself fall dramatically on the pillow. 

"For starters, I'm _not_. Towel, see?" he enunciated gesturing to it with a hand to carry his point across. "Second, I just came outta the shower but forgot my clothes."

Sakusa raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. 

"So!" Atsumu exclaimed, to push the conversation away from his own nakedness. "What's gotten you so serious? Want some water—?"

"No, no. It's just my mother."

"What 'bout her?" he asked, raising a hand to rest it on his back. He figured it was a safe move, since he'd just showered. In fact Sakusa didn't move, nor made any attempt at pushing him away. He almost seemed to relax a little bit. Atsumu started tracing imaginary lines connecting the moles on his skin, his favourite game of dot to dot.

"She invited us to dinner."

Atsumu didn't stop drawing constellations. "And?"

Sakusa breathed again, slowly, back muscles relaxing under the light touch of his finger. "I'm… I don't know. Do you wanna go?"

"Mhm. ‘S alright. When?"

"On monday. You sure?"

"Yes." He rested his hand flat at the small of his back. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know." He turned his head, peeking at him from above his shoulder. 

"Omi," Atsumu smiled, and slipped a finger under the waistband of his pajama pants.

"What are you doing?" Sakusa asked, voice even and gaze unwavering. 

"Getting your mind off things?"

Sakusa squinted at him, and Atsumu smiled wider, pinching the soft skin just above his butt. That made him flinch slightly, and Atsumu chuckled.

"Is it working?" 

"Yes," Sakusa said, and leaned down to press his lips against Atsumu's smiling ones. 

After more than a year of dating Atsumu would have guessed he’d be used to this, by now, but when Sakusa turned completely, hands resting on the pillow at the side of his head, and threw a leg over him to hover above him on his knees, it still managed to take the breath away from him. Maybe it was because getting Sakusa in the mood wasn’t an easy deal, and the good days when things like this were allowed weren’t many, but mostly it was just because he loved him too much, and he wasn’t sure he was doing a good job of showing it on normal days, so he reveled in the times he could show him like this.

He still had a hand under his waistband, and let the other one join it, squeezing his butt slightly. 

"Atsumu," Sakusa breathed against his lips, before leaning back slightly and leaving him to chase him for more kisses raising his head. Sakusa put a hand over his mouth and pushed him back down. "Did you brush your teeth?"

"Yes," Atsumu replied, getting his hands out of Sakusa’s pants just to let them travel up his sides to his chest and shoulders. 

"And you took a shower."

"Yes," he replied, finding his favourite mole constellation near his collarbone and tracing the connecting lines with his thumb. 

"Did you—"

"Omi," he cut him off, leaving his art behind and cupping his cheeks. "Yes."

"Okay," he said, voice low and eyes dark, "Okay." He leaned down again to catch his lips, then moved down to his jaw and neck. 

Atsumu gasped for breath, hands gripping at Sakusa’s shoulders as he felt the familiar nibble of teeth against the skin of his throat. 

"No hickeys," he whispered, hands raising to tangle in Sakusa’s hair.

"Too late," he replied, leaving the spot alone with one last kiss.

"Hey," Atsumu complained, "If we’re gonna have dinner at yer ma’s we need to be presentable."

"Wear a turtleneck."

"Ya know I can't breathe in those," he whispered, pulling his head up by the hair to catch his mouth again.

"Well, that's just too bad," Sakusa replied, then smiled, small and quiet and perfect, and Atsumu melted into the pillow. 

"Yer gonna kill me one’a these days."

"Please, don’t feel pressured to stick around for my sake," Sakusa replied, hands making their way down along his sides. "You can pass away anytime, don’t worry about me."

Atsumu laughed, and grabbed his neck to pull himself up to a sitting position. "If I die I’m gonna punch you," he said, kissing his shoulder. 

"I’d like to see you try." 

"My ghost puches’d be so powerful."

"I bet."

"You won’t even see what’s comin’ until it hits ya."

"Atsumu?" Sakusa said, suddenly serious, pulling back to look him in the eyes. 

"Yeah?" he replied, resting his hands on his shoulders for balance and just because he liked them. The way he was looking at him felt important, like he was about to spout some universal truth, or maybe tell him just how much he loved him. 

"Shut up."

Atsumu let himself fall down on his back once again, bouncing slightly on the mattress, with a groan of frustration that was soon replaced by giggles when Sakusa started poking at his sides. 

"Okay, okay, I’ll shut up! But ya gotta make me," he said, raising his hands towards him in a ‘pick me up’ kind of fashion. 

Sakusa rolled his eyes, sighed, ignored his hands and leaned down to kiss his mouth shut. 

>>><<<

Hinata was leaving the Jackals. 

It wasn’t much of a surprise, everyone was aware about how hard it was to keep the guy standing still, and he’d been getting offers left and right for some time. He’d just been waiting for the right one to make the switch, and that arrived under the guise of the ASAS São Paulo, Brazil calling back to him like a siren song.

Atsumu was happy for him, even though he knew that he would end up missing him, because even if he was small he had a way to fill every room he was in, and Atsumu had gotten too used to having him around. 

But it was alright. He was following his path, and Atsumu wouldn’t have wanted anything else for him. 

On Saturday night they went out to dinner to celebrate and say goodbye, like the good teammates they were, and the subject of moving teams came up, of course. 

Bokuto very adamantly refused to move, despite getting offers, because he ‘ _liked it here_ ’. Atsumu chuckled, because he got it. He was doing just the same. Other teams had called, but they weren’t as good as the Jackals, and there was no way he’d move down from where he was.

And when he said that Inunaki, wasted beyond relief, leaning heavily on Tomas shoulder and spilling half his drink in the process, pointed a finger at him and said " _Exactly_. Not everyone can be as lucky as Sakusa-kun getting offers from the freakin’ Panthers." And at that the floor opened up under him and Atsumu fell down, down, down. 

"What?" he asked, blinking to make sure he was still there, that the room hadn’t vanished around him, that Inunaki was really on the other side of the table and had really spoken certain words in a certain order that definitely made some sense, but no sense to him _at all_.

"Yeah," Inunaki said, nodding vehemently, before stopping and squinting at him. "Wait, you didn’t know?"

Atsumu looked around the table, where everyone else was staring at him with confused - and kind of pitying, if he looked carefully - expressions. "You _all_ knew?!" he asked, and it maybe came out a bit high pitched and strangled, but he didn’t really care about that. 

"Yeah, dude. He got the email like last week, while we were changing?" Bokuto said, clapping a hand on his back. "You were— ah. Right. You were away with Miya-sam. I forgot."

"What?!" 

"He really hasn’t told you?" Hinata asked, leaning forward with wide eyes. "But you’re—"

"Oh my god." Atsumu let his head fall and hit the table. "I want to die."

"Nah, don’t do that!" Bokuto cheerily told him. "He for _sure_ has a reason for not telling you such an important thing."

"Just shut up please," Atsumu said, "please. I need a minute to process it."

Process that Sakusa. Got an offer for the Panasonic Panthers. Based in Osaka. The actual best team in the division. First in the ranks. All the top players were there, of course Sakusa had gotten an offer. It wasn’t that the thing that was making Atsumu want to dive headfirst into a bottomless pit and never come out again.

The thing was… why hadn’t he _told_ him? 

Why had he had to find out from their teammates, and not from his actual _boyfriend_? 

Why was he so angry? Why were his thoughts spinning out of control, making him wish he never got the offer in the first place, wish that he’d refuse? Wish that he wouldn’t leave him?

He didn’t actually want that, just… _Why_? 

Atsumu cried, quietly, head in his arms on the table, while the people around him kept chatting like nothing had happened, like his world hadn’t just been rocked askew by a few words. He cursed Sakusa for not having gone out with them that night, for being nice and warm in his flat and not even knowing what had happened. He pictured him sitting on his couch with a mug of tea in his hands and a movie playing on tv, and he hated him for chilling in the comfort of his home while Atsumu was having a break down in the restaurant. 

When he returned home, that night, he didn’t go to Sakusa’s flat like he’d said he would. He went straight to his, barely brushed his teeth, crawled into bed still half dressed and squished his face into his pillow. 

Was he being selfish, being so angry? He could only think of one reason why Sakusa wouldn’t have told him, and it was that he didn’t want to break up with him in person. He didn’t want to sit him down and have the talk, the ‘I’m moving to another town and keeping in touch with you while having completely different schedules and living miles and miles apart is not something I care about doing so goodbye’ talk. He was just planning to leave and let things quietly fade with time and distance and Atsumu was going to be alone again. Just like when Osamu left. 

He couldn’t help but remember how lonely he’d been, those first months. He still was, if he had to be honest, but having Sakusa around usually was enough for him to forget about missing his brother. 

It wasn’t even like they didn’t see each other anymore. They saw each other plenty, in fact, Atsumu went to his restaurant like every other day (for the free food, not to see him, _what're ya talkin' about?_ ) and Osamu always went to see his matches (even if he used the excuse that getting his stand in stadiums was good for his business). It wasn’t the casual daytime interactions he missed. They still talked, they still saw each other - not everyday, but almost - and when they didn’t they still texted. During the day he was just fine, he had things to do, volleyball to play, people to entertain. No, the daytime was never a problem. It was the evenings. Always the evenings, spent alone in a small flat that still felt too big, watching sitcoms and laughing at the lame jokes because if he didn’t he’d start crying, waiting for the time to go to bed and tune it all out. 

At least, until Sakusa came around, yanking the metaphorical rug from under his feet and putting him off balance, sending him sprawled on the ground, punching the air out of his lungs. Atsumu now could crash in his apartment, help him deep clean once a week, make a mess of the kitchen and get banned to the living room, watch movies he didn’t really understand but enjoyed all the same if only because they made Sakusa’s eyes sparkle in a way he’d only seen them do for good tosses before. 

He had appeared in his life quietly and without a fanfare, and filled all the gaps Atsumu didn’t even know needed filling. 

And now he’d done it again. Atsumu had settled into another comfortable rug and Sakusa had yanked it away from under his feet. 

He screamed out his frustration into the pillow, then took a deep breath. He could smell the faint lemon scent of Sakusa’s laundry detergent, and he frowned to himself in the darkness of his room. He sniffed again and realized the smell was coming from _him_ , from the sweater he was still wearing, the sweater that was definitely Sakusa’s and not his. 

He pulled it up with too much strength, getting it tangled and almost choking on the collar, but he didn’t care. When he managed to wrangle himself out of it he threw it in a corner of the room, with a heartfelt "Fuck you!", and even gave it the finger. 

Then he fell back and let out a shuddering breath. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ," he whispered to himself. "Back to talkin’ to yerself? That’s low, ‘Tsumu. He hasn’t even dumped ya yet."

_Yeah, yet._

He turned to the side, buried his face in the pillow again and shut his eyes so hard he started seeing white spots. "Ya’ll talk ta ‘im tomorrow, now fuckin’ sleep. Just sleep."

And somehow, he did. 

The next day was a Sunday, which meant no practice (usually games, but spring was recruiting season, so there were only friendly matches between other teams this time of the year). Atsumu slept in. 

He hadn’t set an alarm the night before, and when he cracked one eye open at the _bling_ of a text on his phone he just checked the sender, and when he read 'Omi-Omi' he chucked the phone to the foot of the bed.

He turned the other way and carried on sleeping. 

The next time he woke up it was to his ringtone. 

He groaned, picked the phone up, read 'Omi-Omi' again and silenced it, without ending the call. He looked at the time. Barely past ten. He wanted to sleep until noon or so god help him. He put the now silenced phone on his bedside table and closed his eyes again. 

The next time it was the doorbell. 

"Fuck off, Mr. Panthers," he grumbled, but got up anyway and padded to the door, realizing too late he wasn’t wearing any pants and deciding he didn’t care. 

He opened the door knowing he would find Sakusa on the other side, and found his brother instead. 

He squinted at him, having come from the darkness of his room to the full light of a bright morning. "What’re ya doin’ here?" he asked. 

Osamu sighed. "Yer alive, good. Please pick up your boyfriend’s calls next time, he thinks yer on yer deathbed."

"What?"

Osamu rolled his eyes and pushed his way into the flat, making his way straight to the kitchen. "Had breakfast yet?" 

"No," Atsumu replied, closing the door and following him dazedly. 

"Okay." Osamu opened the kitchen window, letting the late morning light and the crisp air inside, and started rummaging around cupboards for a pan. 

"‘Samu?"

"Hm?" he hummed, moving to the pantry cupboard and then tutting disappointingly at its poor state. "Do ya not keep anythin’ in here? How do ya live?"

"Take out," Atsumu replied, sitting down at the table and leaning his head on his arms. "What’re ya doin’ here?" he asked again.

"Sakusa called me, sayin’ ya weren’t answerin’ yer phone and told me to come and check if yer dead."

"Why didn’t _he_ come? He lives closer than ya"

"What do I know. Prolly thought yer sick and doesn’t want to come near yer germs, ‘fraid he’d catch somethin’."

"Mh." No, it couldn’t be it. Atsumu had been sick before, once when he’d eaten some bad sushi in a crappy street food place and had spent the following day throwing up his soul, and once when he’d gotten the flu after an away game.

Sakusa had never sent other people to check on him, he’d been with him. Keeping a good two meters of distance between them and a mask over his face, but still. He’d always been there. 

Why was this time different?

"‘Tsumu."

"Hm?" He raised his eyes to meet his brother’s.

"What’re ya doin’?"

"What?"

"Why not answer him?"

"Was sleepin’."

"Bullshit."

Atsumu rolled his eyes. "I’m mad at ‘im."

"Why?"

"‘Cause he didn’t tell me somethin’ he should’ve."

"The Panthers?"

" _You know too?!_ What the actual fuck, ‘Samu, what’s the deal here?"

"Pretty sure there’s like an article 'bout it on _every_ sports magazine ever printed."

"What?" 

Osamu got his phone out of his pocket and left the stove long enough to quickly thumb through it and then hand it to Atsumu. 

It was the Monthly Volleyball official site, with a picture of Sakusa that took the whole screen and the words "The Hirakata city’s Panasonic Panthers have had their eyes on MSBY Sakusa Kiyoomi for some time now, will their wishes finally come true the next season?" printed over it.

"‘Samu?"

"Hm?"

"Why hasn’t he told me?"

"Prolly thinks ya already know, ya idiot. Thinks yer the one who’s not bringing it up."

"Well, he’s stupid. I didn’t know."

"Go talk to ‘im."

"Yeah."

"After breakfast."

Atsumu smiled at the plate his brother set in front of him. "Thanks! Yer the best."

"I’m honestly worried ‘bout ya, this is barely enough for breakfast, ya don’t eat well enough."

"I do, though, Omi Omi keeps way better track of these things than me and he’s—" he stopped himself, remembering he was still mad at him. 

Osamu somehow managed to make an eye roll sound out loud, and Atsumu pouted at the plate.

"Yer impossible, ya know that? Both of ya."

"Yes, we’re perfect for each other, I get it," Atsumu said, sarcasm seeping out from every word.

"Ya really are. Jerk."

"Hey, this is pretty good."

"Don’t try and change the subject with flattery."

"Oh but it always works with ya, ‘Samu. What did ya use to make this? I wanna try it sometimes."

"Well, ya gotta first take the milk—" he started, then stopped. "Goddamnit. I’m leaving."

"No, no ‘Samu wait I really want to know!" laughed Atsumu. "Don’t leave me."

"Alright." 

He managed to get to lunch time without talking to Sakusa, and mostly because Osamu stayed at his flat for a couple hours to keep him company. 

"Gotta go have lunch with Rin," he’d said around half past noon, standing up from the couch and making his way to the door. 

"Disgusting," Atsumu replied, "How dare ya."

Osamu just shrugged and turned back to him just to say: "Don’t let me win so easily, ‘Tsumu." And then let himself out. 

Atsumu screamed into the couch cushions, then got up. 

"No way, I’m gonna destroy ya, ‘Samu."

He showered, put on clean and nice clothes, and ran all the way to Sakusa’s apartment. 

He got the article from the Monthly Volleyball website open on his phone, and shoved it in Sakusa’s face as soon as he opened the door. 

"Glad to see you’re not dead, asshole," Sakusa said as a way of greeting, pushing his hand and the phone away and crossing his arms. "What’s wrong with you?"

"What’s wrong with _ya_!" Atsumu retorted, pointing fingers and pushing his way into the flat. "Why didn’tcha tell me anythin’?!"

Sakusa closed the door behind him, watching as he toed off his shoes and stomped deeper into the flat. "I’m having lunch right now, it’s getting cold—"

"I don’t care! This—" he waved his phone around, meaning the news, "This is _important_ ! S’the fuckin’ _top team_ , are ya shittin’ me?! And ya didn’t even tell me!"

"I thought you knew."

"Yeah, nice try! Guess what, _I fuckin’ didn’t!_ "

"You always read the VM while you’re in the bathroom."

"Fuck off! How do you know that?"

"You told me."

"I— well, I got this game on my phone so lately I’ve been playing that— But that’s not the _point_!"

"Listen it’s not—"

"No, _ya_ listen to _me._ If this’s how ya planned to do it, fuck off to Osaka and let time do its thing, well, _maybe_ ya could at least have the decency to dump me prop’rly face ta face and not in a couple’a months with a videocall!"

"I don’t want to break up with you, what are you talking about?"

"Yeah ya do! Ya already don’t talk to me, that’s the next step, right?"

"It’s not like you talk to me either, Atsumu."

"We ain’t talkin’ ‘bout me, now!"

Sakusa laughed then, humorless, and it made Atsumu’s blood boil. 

"It's not a big deal, I—" Sakusa started, bit Atsumu was having none of it. 

"Not a _bit deal?!_ Are you shittin' me? The fuckin’ _Panthers_!" he said, widening his arms to make clear just how much of a big deal that was.

"What, are you angry because I got a better offer than you?" Sakusa said, "Are you jealous?"

"Fuck you! I just— It’s not that I don’t want ya to not go, don’t ya get it? I just want to know why you didn’t tell me first! Before anyone else! Everyone knew but me! I’m yer boyfriend I should know everythin’ ‘bout you!"

"That would make the relationship pretty boring."

Atsumu let out a deep breath, shaking his head. "Yer still doin’ it. Still won’t talk to me."

"I don’t know what to say."

"Alright, then ya can shut up, Sakusa." 

Sakusa let out a quiet gasp, short and barely audible, taking a step back. Atsumu glared at him, at the way his eyebrows were scrunching up together and his mouth was hanging open in the smallest of os. When the silence stretched on so long that it was starting to feel like a physical thing in the room between them, Atsumu moved, went back to the door and slipped his shoes back on. 

He had already opened the door, when Sakusa’s voice stopped him. "Are you still up for dinner at my mother’s tomorrow?"

Atsumu closed the door behind him without answering. 

>>><<<

Atsumu didn’t think he could miss a person while standing less than two meters away from them, but here he was, at practice, glaring at the back of Sakusa’s head because he wouldn’t talk to him. Atsumu wouldn’t talk to him either, but that was not the point. 

"Did you have a fight?" Bokuto stage whispered to him during a water break, having discretely waited for Sakusa to be far from them. 

"Yeah, he’s bein’ a baby."

"You know the best way to stop fighting is just start listening to what the other is saying."

Atsumu raised an eyebrow at Bokuto, who was looking back at him with his arms crossed and a sage expression on his face.

"Mh. Sounds fake but okay."

"No, no, trust me. I know what I’m doing, I’ve managed to not let Akaashi break up with me for all these years."

Atsumu laughed. "Yeah, ya might have a point, actually."

Bokuto punched his shoulder, and then the break was over and they had to go back to practice. 

Just listen, huh? What could he listen to if his problem was that there was nothing to hear? That Sakusa didn’t talk to him?

After practice he was glad that Sakusa usually was the first in and first out of the showers, because it meant that he could avoid him. Until Sakusa was ready to leave and Atsumu was still toweling his hair dry. Sakusa would usually sit on one of the benches and wait for him so they could go home together, but today he just called out to him, "I’ll come pick you up at 7:15," Atsumu replied with a curt: "Fine," and then he left. 

Atsumu had to take a minute or two to sit down and breathe, because it would be the first time in over a year that he’d have to make the walk back home on his own and he didn’t even bring headphones. It was going to be so boring. 

And once home he’d have to dress up nicely, give a semblance of order to his hair, and plaster a smile on his face and pretend everything was fine. 

It was going to be the worst night of his life, he could feel it. 

>>><<<

"Hi," Sakusa greeted him when he climbed in his car. 

Atsumu slouched down in the passenger seat, shoulders rising up to his ears. "Hey."

"Is that my jacket?" 

Atsumu looked down, because he actually had no idea what jacket he’d grabbed on his way out, it had just been the first one on the coat rack. "Maybe."

"You have like half my wardrobe—"

"I’ll give it back if it bothers ya that much."

"No. Y- you can…"

"What?"

"Nevermind."

Atsumu looked out of the window as the car pulled away from the spot it was parked and into the road. 

"Are you still mad—?" Sakusa ventured.

"Yeah, I’m still _mad._ " 

"Okay." 

Atsumu sighed, passed a hand on his face, and turned to look at him. "Do ya even know why?" 

Sakusa didn’t show signs of understanding the question. 

"Omi."

He glanced at him, then right back at the road, a sign that he was listening. "No," he said, small. 

"It just hurts that ya don’t… don’t think I’m worth sharin’ things with."

"I don’t think that. I… I should have told you, yes, but—" he stopped himself, hands gripping at the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white. Atsumu felt the words rising in his throat. He didn’t know what he was going to say, but the silence was making him want to butt in and speak.

_Just listen._

He breathed. "But?" he pushed, leaning forward so he could see his face better. 

"But we never really talk about these kind of things. You get offers all the time and you’ve never told me for what team or if you’re thinking about it."

"That’s 'cause they’ve always been crap. Not the freakin’ Panthers."

Sakusa detached a hand from the wheel and pushed his hair back. "I know. I won’t—"

"'Cause you’re gonna leave us, leave me, and go to Osaka, and I wish… I just wish you were the one who told me, and not a drunk Inu-san."

"I really thought you knew—"

"Not an excuse! Seriously!"

"Sorry."

"Yeah." Atsumu looked back out of his window. This wasn’t the way this night was supposed to be going. He was supposed to be nervous about meeting his boyfriend’s mother, nervous about having to leave a good impression. And he was, he guessed, but there were also a thousand other things filling his head that he wished weren’t there. 

"Can I just ask you to pretend you love me for one evening—" Sakusa started, and Atsumu rolled his eyes.

"Pretend?" he cut him off, "I won’t _pretend_ to be in love with ya." He shook his head and sighed, " _Geez_." 

Sakusa’s eyes didn’t leave the road. "Okay."

Atsumu let a beat pass, then realized it might have sounded like he'd just said he would be a dick to him and his mum all evening (and knowing Sakusa there was a 99% chance he'd intended it that way) so he added: "I don’t need to pretend. I’m mad but it’s not like I stopped lovin’ ya." 

Sakusa let out a noncommittal hum, then a slightly shaky breath. 

Atsumu shook his head again, and focused back on the city lights zooming by.

"Stop doing that," Sakusa said harshly after a while, and Atsumu realised he’d been furiously biting at his nails. His pinky was skinned, and if he pressed on it too hard with his thumb it hurt. Playing the next day was going to be a pain. He lowered his hand and put it under his thigh to keep it stuck and avoid going back to nibbling at his fingers. 

Sakusa sighed. Atsumu turned to look at him again. "What?"

"Look, if you don't want to do this—"

"No!" Atsumu cut him off, "'Course I do!" 

"You don't look like—"

"I’m not allowed to be nervous ‘bout meetin’ yer ma, now?"

Sakusa spared another short glance at him. 

"It’s a _big thing._ She could hate me."

Sakusa snorted a little laugh - which, despite his best efforts, made Atsumu smile - and shook his head. "She won’t." 

"She _might_ , though. And then you’ll just leave and won’t even try to keep in touch."

"I’m not going to break up with you because my mother told me to."

"That’s sweet, but I don’t trust ya."

"I’ll rip your teeth out, stop biting your nails."

"Geez, Omi." Atsumu rolled his eyes and put his other hand under his thigh as well. He caught Sakusa smiling though, and rested his head on the seat feeling marginally better. "You promise?"

" _Miya_." Back to ‘Miya’, good sign. ‘Atsumu’ meant serious business. 'Atsumu' was for arguments and sexy times only. "Just relax. Be yourself."

"Yeah, no. Not a good idea at all. Worst advice ever."

"I like you, she'll like you too. She's my mum."

"She's gonna hate me. You hated me when we first met, remember?"

"That was like ten years ago."

" _Nine._ "

"Whatever."

"Plus, mothers' opinions’re _extrem’ly_ crucial." Sakusa snorted again, and Atsumu chuckled as well. "I’m serious," he offered, trying to sound it too and failing.

"Don’t worry," Sakusa told him. "You’re going to be just fine."

Atsumu was absolutely not doing just fine. He didn’t think that walking to the door of Sakusa’s childhood home would feel like this (that is, that the ground would be moving under his feet and he’d have to keep his hands deep in his (Sakusa’s) jacket’s pockets to avoid chewing his nails out and he’d be sweating down his clean good shirt - the collar of which he couldn't even open to breathe because it was hiding a hickey - in the middle of what was still a late winter. Was he gonna have sweat patches under his armpits? He should keep the jacket on all evening, just to be sure, even if it would mean even more sweat).

Looking on as Sakusa ringed the doorbell with his elbow might have been even worse. 

He felt like he was about to throw up.

But then the door opened and he smelled lemons. 

Sakusa’s mother was… well, she was just like her son. Tall, with a _lot_ of hair falling over her shoulders in a dark curtain of soft waves, a couple of moles dotting her cheeks, and a gentle smile on her lips— yeah, that was not very Sakusa-like. Atsumu slapped himself out of his reverie, and remembered to bow. 

"Nice to meet ya!" he blurted, and then realized he actually hadn’t even introduced himself, so he righted himself and opened his mouth to tell her his name. He didn’t even get one syllable out before she laughed merrily and bowed her head slightly. 

"Nice to meet you too, Miya-kun."

"Oh!" he raised his hands, lowered them again, waved them a little sideways, then put them back in his pockets. "Just Atsumu is fine, please."

"Alright, Atsumu-kun," she said, with an amused smile. 

"It’s ‘cause I got a twin, y’know? No one ever calls us by our surname, it’ll get confusin’."

"Yes, I heard there were two of you. Kiyoomi used to tell me—"

" _Mum_." Sakusa cut her off harshly.

"Right," she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You can call me Nahoko, then."

"N-nice to meet ya!" he said again, realizing too late that he'd already said it once.

Nahoko smiled, "Let’s move to the couch, we don’t want you standing here in the hall all evening, right?"

"Sure, thank you for the hospitality!" Atsumu said, slipping off his shoes and following her deeper into the house. He paused for a second to look back at Sakusa, who was stending still in the middle of the hall, looking at his socked feet on the wooden floor. 

"Hey," Atsumu called to him in a whisper, making his head snap up. "It’s _my_ turn to freak out tonight. Ya’ve got nothin’ to worry ‘bout."

Sakusa’s mouth twisted into what Atsumu knew by now was the attempt to hide a smile, and he joined his side, grabbing his jacket sleeve in lieu of his hand, maybe because they’d been fighting, maybe because it was just one of those days. Atsumu smiled at him, and he didn’t even have to pretend to not be mad anymore because he just found out that looking at him be nervous and cute he could forget about it for a couple hours. He loved the way Sakusa managed to find comfort without touch, with only glances and pinched clothes and quiet words. 

"Do you want to give me your jacket, Atsumu?" Nahoko asked as soon as they stepped foot into the living room, and suddenly Sakusa’s hand was gone, and he didn’t have any more excuses to still keep it on. It was warm in the flat and she was already offering an arm to take it, so Atsumu prayed to all the gods that might be listening that he wouldn’t have awful sweat patches on his shirt and shrugged the jacket off. 

"Oh, Kiyoomi has the same jacket, don’t you?" she asked as soon as it was in her hands. 

A quiet "Uh," was the only thing that came out of Sakusa’s mouth. 

"I remember it, you wore it a lot."

"Well, we shop in the same stores," Atsumu offered, "Often," he added, for good measure. "Omi don’t like shopping much so lat’ly it’s just me pickin’ some stuff for him I find real nice. We kinda have the same taste, so—" He stopped himself before it was too late. What was wrong with him, starting to blabber like that? 

Luckily Sakusa’s mother just chuckled, and raised her eyebrows in a way that seemed to mean ‘is that so?’. She smoothed the jacket over her arm and gestured at the couch. "Dinner is almost ready, but you boys make yourselves comfortable, alright? I’ll be right back." And with that she disappeared into the house taking the jacket as hostage. 

Sakusa flopped down on the couch, long legs stretched out in front of him, and clasped his hands together on his lap. "C’mon, sit down. You look like a lamp standing there."

"Right," Atsumu chuckled nervously and started debating with himself over where he should sit. Right next to Sakusa? On the opposite end of the couch? On the armchair? Maybe he should just lay down on the floor and dissolve in a puddle, that would just be better for everyone. 

"Miya," Sakusa called, and when Atsumu looked up he was patting the couch cushion beside him. 

"Yeah, right." Everything was normal for tonight. No need to panic about things like that. Atsumu’s feet moved on their own accord and brought him to sit down next to his boyfriend. Close, but not too much. Sakusa’s hand was quick to grab hold of his sleeve again, pinching it tight between his fingers. "Is yer ma alright with this?"

"With what?"

"Holdin’ hands before marriage."

Sakusa shot him a disappointed slash annoyed look, and Atsumu chuckled. 

"Bold of you to assume I want to hold your hand."

"How ‘bout my d—"

"Well! Want to come to the table?" 

Atsumu choked on air as he heard the flippant voice of Sakusa’s mother from the door. He was aware of the incriminating shade of red his face must have been growing into, and passed a hand on his forehead to blame it on the heat as he stiffly stood up. 

He heard Sakusa snicker behind him and turned an offended look his way. How dared he enjoy his misery? 

Atsumu asked the location to the bathroom so he could go wash his hands, and he didn’t miss the little look that passed between mother and son after he told them so.

As he scrubbed he thought that if there was one thing he was sure of, is that it could hardly go worse than this.

The thought helped him relax a little as he sat down at the dinner table and said his thanks for the meal. 

>>><<<

Atsumu had never cared much about other people. Had never cared about what they thought of him, or what he thought of them. He'd always been just fine on his own and had no intention of accommodating other people if it meant changing things about himself. He’d rather be himself and be hated than bend to please other people and be liked. 

So why was he now so desperate for Sakusa Nahoko to _like_ him? 

He smiled, made casual conversation, complimented her cooking, talking about himself and Osamu and his restaurant. He wasn’t sure if singing praises for Osamu while trying to make a good impression on his boyfriend’s mother was a good idea. She was gonna end up wondering why her son was dating the wrong twin. But he couldn’t stop himself. He had always been _Osamu this, Osamu that_ , and it made nothing but make him miss him more than he already did. 

He glanced at Sakusa throughout the chatting, catching him staring at him, or pointedly avoiding both his and his mother’s eyes by staring at his plate when they started talking about him. He learned a lot of secret child-Omi knowledge, and laughed out loud at the anecdotes, that one time he had fallen down from a sidewalk running after a ball and skinned his nose on the concrete, that one time a dog had chased him down three blocks because he’d seen him sprinting to go take a free swing and, too scared to stop, Kiyoomi had kept running until the dog’s owner caught up to them, that one time Komori spit water in his face by accident because he’d started laughing and he had refused to talk to him for a whole week. 

Atsumu was over the moon. He didn’t even have to _try_ to forget about being mad at him, it just happened between one story and the next, and it was like he’d never been mad in the first place. 

"And he also cried when he walked into his dorm room at college," Nahoko said, linking the new information to the last story of public display of tears by her son (a dropped ice-cream at the mall). 

" _Mum._ "

"And it was because it had fitted carpeting. Can you believe?"

Atsumu laughed. "I sure do. Moquettes are disgusting."

Sakusa pointed a hand towards him and raised his eyebrows to show that was exactly his point. 

Atsumu smiled, "But we all know he’s a big softie, bet he was just usin' that as an excuse—"

"No I wasn’t, _shut up_."

His mum laughed, "It’s okay, Kiyoomi, moving to live on your own for the first time gets to everyone."

"Yeah," Atsumu said, before realizing that his nostalgic tone made it sound like it had been hard for him too. Which it had, but he didn’t like to admit it, or even _think_ about it, really. 

"Now you have Atsumu to keep you company, right?" she smiled, looking at her son. 

Sakusa just rolled his eyes, and looked at Atsumu in a way that meant ‘now don’t go saying stupid shit’. 

He smiled and said: "Yeah, I go bother him as much as I can." 

"Ah, wait so you don’t live together?" Nahoko asked, making them both stop with food mid-way between the plate and their mouth.

"Uh, no," Atsumu replied, while at the same time Sakusa said: "Basically."

Atsumu threw him a look, and then started to try and explain, "Well, I have a small flat, and so I hang out at his place loads, but—"

"You live with your brother then?" she asked, with genuine curiosity and a gentle smile, like that was the only other logical solution. 

"Nah," Atsumu replied, feeling the floor shift under him to swallow him up and his chest tighten in the way it did only when Osamu was mentioned or he was reminded of the fact that no, they didn’t live together anymore, and he forced out a smile. "Got rid of that loser a couple years back."

Atsumu remembered it clear as day, moving into his new flat, being ecstatic. "Finally," he'd said, as he and Osamu dragged his boxes into the small one bedroom space. "I won't hafta see yer stupid face first thing in the mornin' anymore." 

Osamu had hit him on the head, and went on helping him unpack. 

The first night Atsumu spent alone, he got into bed and forgot the lights on. He called for Osamu to go and turn it off, before remembering there was no one else in the flat with him. 

He got up, turned off the light and went back to sleep feeling cold. 

In the following weeks, it didn't come as a surprise, more like the certainty of a sinking feeling that finally reached the bottom of the sea inside his stomach. 

He, for how much he hated to admit it, missed his brother. 

It was fair, he supposed, to miss a person you've spend literally all your life with up to that point when they suddenly weren’t there anymore. 

It was still weird though, feeling Osamu’s absence like a physical thing around him, almost as if his not being there took up more space than he himself used to. 

He knew it was gonna happen, that they would one day drift apart from each other, both of them getting a life of their own, and move on, but those first weeks of independent life had been the worst of his existence. Atsumu wasn’t happily married (nor was Osamu but he always had more chances than him, on account of being overall a better person not to mention a good cook, and also managed to get a boyfriend before him), and he didn't have many things to do to fill his nights, except go out for drinks or watch tv shows, which to be fair were his only evening past times. 

And he was fine, for a while. It wasn’t like he _needed_ people. He’d never cared much for others, it had always been just him and Osamu, and he used to be fine with that. But now Osamu had better things to do and Atsumu was lonely. 

And he got used to it, one way or another, he got used to the silence, to the emptiness, to the dirty plates in the sink, to take out food and bad television. 

Then Sakusa came around, silently judging, smelling of lemons and of challenge, and Atsumu was so whipped he could forget about everything else. 

"Do you miss him?" Nahoko asked.

Atsumu lowered his gaze to his plate, turned a couple of rice grains around with his sticks, and said: "Yeah." It still managed to sound like an understatement. 

>>><<<

"Oh my god, this cake’s amazing!" he exclaimed, mouth full and already picking another piece up on his fork. 

Nahoko laughed merrily and thanked him. "I’ll give you the recipe if you want."

"I’d love that! How come ya never make me no cakes, Omi-Omi?" he accused, turning towards his boyfriend.

"Because you don’t deserve them."

"Lies, I’m the best. I clean the kitchen for ya, like, everyday." 

"That’s not true, you barely knew how to wash the dishes until I forced you to."

"True, ya’ll turn me into a perfect house-husband, I know it."

"No way. You suck."

"Give it… another year," Atsumu decided, stuffing his mouth with more cake. "I’ll learn to cook and bake cakes too."

"Sure."

"One year to the wedding, then?" Nahoko asked, leaning her chin on her hand. 

Atsumu choked on the cake, and Sakusa looked at his mother with wide eyes. 

She just laughed, filling Atsumu’s glass with water and saying "I’m kidding, don’t feel rushed. But also don’t let him break up with you, Kiyoomi. I like him."

"Mum, what the hell." 

"I’m just saying you’re a bit of a jerk sometimes and it’s not easy to find someone as kind as this boy." 

Atsumu laughed at that, having regained the ability to breathe. "Yeah, Omi, yer a jerk."

"Oh, shut up you. Go back to choking."

"Rude," Atsumu replied, sipping on the last of his water. 

"See, that’s what I mean." Nahoko said.

"You think I’m stupid?" replied Sakusa. "I know." 

"Aw," went Atsumu, putting down the glass to reach out a hand and rest it on his arm. He knew hands were off limits today, but sleeves were usually fine. 

Sakusa pulled his arm away and glared at him. Okay, maybe not fine either. Atsumu sent in a silent apology via raised eyebrows and received a soft kick to the shin under the table in response. ‘It’s fine’. 

"Want some sakè?" Nahoko asked, clapping her hands together. "Digestive."

"Ah," Atsumu looked back at her, realizing he’d probably been staring at Sakusa for too long, and nodded. "I’d like some, thanks."

"Great!" She got up and reached a cabinet. "And after you can take Atsumu up to show him your old room, Kiyoomi!"

"Oh god yes," Atsumu exclaimed, turning once again to Sakusa, who looked miserable. 

"Oh _god no_."

>>><<<

"So this is it."

"Yeah," Sakusa confirmed, moving to the side with his hands deep in his pockets and shoulders held high near his ears. He looked like he’d rather implode in on himself than have Atsumu snoop around into his old room, but for once Atsumu didn’t care about his comfort zone. He was in little Omi’s kingdom and he wanted to know everything there was to know. 

His eyes zeroed in on the dresser, on top of which sat a framed photograph. "Omi, can I ask… what in the everlovin’ _fuck_ is a framed picture of Ushijima-kun doin’ on there?"

Sakusa snorted and joined his side to look at the picture that Atsumu was now holding in his hands. 

"Komori gave it to me for my birthday one year."

" _Why_?" 

"Well, because he’s a dick."

"Ushijima or Komori?" 

"Komori. I told him _once_ that I saw Wakatoshi-kun dry his hands with his own personal napkin and then fold it with the damp side in before putting it away in his pocket and he’s been making fun of me ever since. Saying I fall for the first person who shows the slightest hint at caring about personal hygiene." 

Atsumu laughed. "I see, so he’s been my true rival all along."

Sakusa huffed. "Please don’t tell me you’re jealous, I wouldn’t stand it," he said, so monotone that if sarcasm was a solid thing manifesting with each word they’d both be drowning in it.

"Nah, I know ya don’t care about personal hygiene all that much. I mean I’m decent at it now, but ya still fell in love with me when I sucked."

"I honestly don’t know where I went wrong." 

"I’m just that charmin’," Atsumu replied, smiling cheekily up at him.

Sakusa’s mouth quirked up to the side in the smallest of smiles, and Atsumu felt his cheeks catch fire, so he turned his attention back down to the picture in his hands.

"Anyway, this’s the best thing I’ve ever seen. I’m keepin’ it." He tried to put the picture into his pants pocket, which of course was too small, and Sakusa hit his arm hard enough to make him drop it on the floor. 

"Careful!" he shouted, crouching down to pick the frame up and turn it around in his hands to inspect the non-existent damage. "You’re gonna break him, he’s important!"

"Shut up, Miya. You can’t keep it."

"Bummer, wanted to hang him up in the kitchen."

Atsumu set Ushijima back on the dresser after one last caress at the picture, and pointed at the wall. "Can we keep the medals?"

"No way."

"Is that a best spiker award?" he asked, pointing at another frame. 

"Yes."

"Woah, I so want this. Please let me take it."

"No."

"Yer no fun."

He left the awards alone and went on to explore the bookshelves. 

"What’s this here?" he asked, picking up a little origami. 

"It’s supposed to be an X-wing. From Star Wars."

"Ya like Star Wars?"

"Why are you surprised? What’s wrong with that?"

"I don’t know, ya usually only watch those awful movies that I really struggle with, the ones where ya actually have to think."

"That’s a recent passion. I grew up with Star Wars."

"Fair. What ‘bout these here?" he asked, looking at a little jar filled with folded paper stars. 

"Can you stop touching everything? You can look without touching, you know?"

"Sorry." He clasped his hands behind his back, and turned a questioning look at Sakusa. He still wanted his answers. 

"Bastard," Sakusa said. Then sighed and picked the jar up to shake it a little and mix the colored stars inside. "First year of high school I used to make one every time I had a panic attack to calm me down."

Atsumu didn’t comment on the number of little stars because he wasn’t even sure he could quantify them at a glance, instead moved on to look at the books. There were mostly school texts, some mandatory reading that he vaguely remembered he had had to do as well, and the rest was cds. 

"Woah," he said, crouching down to get a better look at the lower shelf. "There’s so many! How much of a music nerd are ya really?"

"Just the right amount," Sakusa replied, sitting on his bed to be more or less at eye level with Atsumu without crouching on the floor. 

"There’s a lot of classical music."

"Have problems with that?"

"No, I like it. It suits ya. But I thought there’d be more of those weird old songs ya make me listen on the car radio when ya drive."

"What can I say, I had less taste when I was younger. Now I’ve been enlightened to the disco wisdom of the 80s."

Atsumu turned, and looked up at his boyfriend, taking in the way his hair was falling on his forehead and his mouth was twisted in the way it always was when he was biting his cheek in the attempt to stay serious while saying stupid things. 

"Can I join ya up there?" he asked, and Sakusa looked at his pillow. 

"This bed is small," he said, "You won’t fit."

"S’that a challenge?"

"No—" Sakusa started, but before he could finish his complaint Atsumu was already crawling on and settling down with his head on the pillow and his legs dangling out from the side. 

"Oh my god you have glow up stars on your ceiling! Hadn’t noticed them comin’ in."

"That’s because the light is on, idiot. And are you finished making fun of me?"

"I’m not makin’ fun of ya, I’m admirin’ ya."

Sakusa looked down at him with a complicated frown, then pushed his shoulder and urged him to scoot a little to the side so he could lay down his head on the pillow as well. 

"I had them too, back at home, y’know?" Atsumu said, eyes trained on the stars on the ceiling. 

"You did?"

"Yeah. We had a bunk bed, me and ‘Samu, and I was on top of course, bein’ the oldest and all."

"Right." 

"And I had them in the corner, just for me. ‘Samu didn’t want them ‘cause he liked the dark better. That’s why he was fine with sleeping in the tomb that is the bottom bunk bed."

"Sure."

Atsumu chuckled, and turned his head slightly to look at Sakusa. "We’re just the same deep down, ain’t we?"

"We’re nothing alike, you’re an asshole."

"Right, as if ya ain’t a big jerk as well."

"Shut up."

Atsumu laughed at the way Sakusa’s face scrunched up in annoyance, eyes still trained on the ceiling. He turned back to look up too. "Did ya make up fake constellations to fall asleep, too?"

"No, I put them up in real constellations."

"What?"

"Yeah, look," he raised an arm and pointed to the ceiling. Atsumu followed his finger. "Big Dipper. Move to the right, and there’s the North Star. There Cassiopeia. And right above here, the Swan."

"Wow," Atsumu breathed out, speechless. He didn’t think it was possible for him to fall even more in love with Sakusa Kiyoomi and yet here he was, laying down with his hands clasped together on his stomach in his childhood bed looking up at glow-up stars that weren’t glowing because the lights were on. "Yer a _real_ big nerd."

"Shut it."

"Man, this is even better than _actual_ stargazin’."

"Why?"

"For once, it’s comfortable. And warm. And y’know, ya literally hung up the stars."

Sakusa groaned, and Atsumu laughed because he saw the little blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Kiss?" he asked, because he had to, because he wanted to, because he thought asking first made every kiss a thousand times more important, and he hadn’t completely forgotten about the big problem they were both so masterfully ignoring. 

Sakusa turned his head to look at him, took a deep breath, then put a hand over his mouth and leaned in to kiss his own knuckles. Atsumu breathed in the smell of lemon hand sanitizer on his palm, and wondered if he was always going to associate the acrid but sweet smell with kisses for the rest of his life. He kinda hoped so, he’d grown to like it. It was familiar and comforting, like slipping on his favourite sweater (which he’d stolen from Osamu years before) on a cold day after practice.

"I’m sorry," Sakusa said once he pulled back, looking at the ceiling again, a pained expression on his face. 

"Yeah, havin’ a picture of Ushiwaka-kun and not of yer boyfriend in yer room is a real bastard move, yer right to apologize."

"I didn’t—" he turned to complain, Atsumu knew what he wanted to say, _that’s not what I was apologizing for_. He knew and he smiled. Sakusa knew that he knew and dropped it. "Thank you," he said instead.

And Atsumu chuckled. "For what? Thank _you_ , Omi-Omi." 

They stayed there in silence for a while, after that, looking up at the ceiling laying side by side with only their shoulders barely brushing, just breathing, and Atsumu was happy. It wasn’t a lot of times he could confidently say that he felt completely content with where he was, and what he was doing, and it usually only happened while playing volleyball and winning a match. 

Maybe, in some ways, he did win something here. He might have still felt lonely at times, he might have had trouble falling asleep in his own bed, he might have felt like there was still something missing, but he loved Sakusa Kiyoomi, and it was moments like this that made it easier to forget about everything else. 

"I really am sorry," Sakusa said, breaking the silence, and making the little happiness bubble pop above Atsumu’s head. "I know I should have told you about the Panthers."

"Yeah," was the only thing Atsumu could bring himself to say. Sakusa had already said sorry, in the car, and honestly it wasn’t enough for him. "Listen, what’s done’s done, now."

"Hm." 

Atsumu turned his head to look at him. "But can ya promise to… talk to me in the future? If… if we stay—"

"Yes. I can promise," Sakusa said, without moving his eyes away from the ceiling. 

"Good. Then it’s fine, ya learned yer lesson? Ya can go to Osaka now, yer a big boy."

"I don’t want to go to Osaka."

"Well, wanna make the whole team move here for ya, then?" he chuckled, shifting slightly to hit his shoulder with his own. 

"No. I just—"

"Ya’ll be fine!" he said, turning to look at the ceiling again, as if it had written on it all the answers. "I can help ya find a nice house there, one without fitted carpets, and then we can go scout for nice places to eat at, huh? And by train it’s not that long a trip, I can come visit one week, and the next ya come visit me."

"Atsumu."

"Yeah?"

"You don’t get it, I don’t want to go."

"Yes you do. It’s just Osaka, it’s not the other side of the world."

"No, you don’t—"

"Oh, I remember once we went there with my folks and there was—"

"Atsumu, shut up for a second!" Sakusa said, rising up to a sitting position. "Shut up," he repeated, turning his head to look at him over his shoulder. "You complain that I don’t talk, but when I try to you won’t listen to me."

 _Just listen_ . Atsumu could hear Bokuto’s voice telling him a thousand other bad advices, but also some good ones, and he had a feeling this was one of the good ones. _Just listen._

He sat up as well, and nodded at Sakusa to go on. 

"I don’t want to go, I _won’t_ go." He paused, letting the information settle in. Atsumu was shaking with the effort not to ask _‘why?_ ’, but he kept his mouth shut. "It’s also part of the reason I didn’t tell you, alright? I knew you’d push me to go, and I don’t want to."

" _Why_?" he blurts out, and he sounds so desperate he’s actually a little surprised of himself. 

"Because! What if I hate it there? I won’t go to a team just because they’re _good on paper_ , when I found one that I like and where I’m comfortable and trust my teammates?"

"Because they’re the freakin’ Panthers!"

"No, I don’t care about that."

"Why not?"

"I don’t care about the team, I don’t care about ranking and money and whatever. I care about playing volleyball in a satisfying way, with good teammates, keep practicing and getting better, pay proper care to everything, feel comfortable on court, getting sets I can trust. You. These are the things I care about. And I already have them, so I’m not moving."

"Omi…" 

He glanced at him, then turned to look down at his hands. "I don’t care about the team, as long as we’re in the same one."

Atsumu reached out a hand and put it on his back. "Ya don’t have to stay behind because of me, Omi, I can’t—"

"No, I’m not staying because of _you_ , I’m staying because of _me._ It’s the most selfish thing I can do, I won’t give up your tosses just to go on a ‘better’ team, because what if I can’t trust their setter? I won’t let go of this thing I found."

Atsumu moved his hand to squeeze his shoulder. "Well, I won’t… _complain_. Shit, I’m glad you’re not leaving. But yer also an idiot."

Sakusa turned his head to look at him again. "So are you. Getting so angry and not even letting me explain."

"Oh, c’mon, I thought you were leavin’ me for real."

"I wouldn’t have brought you to meet my mother if I had plans to break up with you, don’t you think?"

Atsumu shrugged, and leaned his forehead on his shoulder. "I’ll give ya that."

Sakusa let a beat of silence pass, then softly called: "Miya?"

"Mh?" 

"We should probably head back before she starts wondering what we’re doing."

"What, ‘fraid she’s thinking we’re getting dirty in yer old room? I think ya’d have a heart attack if we just _tried_ to—"

"Yes, let’s just go."

"Fine," he conceded, "I’m keepin’ all these dirty thoughts right here in my head until we get home." 

Sakusa pushed him, making him tumble off the bed to the floor. "Boo, you treat your boyfriend worse than your Ushijima picture! I’m filin’ a boyfriend divorce!"

Sakusa got up and walked to the door. "It’s what you deserve."

"Noo!" he cried from the floor, squirming to try and right himself in the most complicated way possible in the hopes of making Sakusa laugh. And it worked, to a degree, even if the laugh was just a little snort. It still made his chest flutter. 

"C’mon, move it."

"Go on without me!" Atsumu replied dramatically, but then jumped to his feet and added: "I mean it, I gotta hit the bathroom."

Sakusa rolled his eyes and turned to leave. "You know where it is," he said, before hurrying down the stairs. 

>>><<<

Atsumu was eavesdropping. 

He had taken a detour to the bathroom before going back to the kitchen to say goodbye, not because he needed to pee but just because he needed an excuse to find a place to reset for a second. He’d settled things with Sakusa. He understood, now, and he hoped Sakusa had understood him too. And the night was over, they were about to go home. He just had do his best not to make an idiot of himself at the last chance he got, and get out of here. He had taken a deep breath of the clean space, washed his hands, fixed his hair, and went down. That’s when he’d heard hushed voices coming from the kitchen and he had stopped just outside it, back against the wall. Eavesdropping, because they were talking about _him._

"He’s a really nice young man," he heard Sakusa’s mum say, and it sounded like she was smiling. 

"I know," came Sakusa’s reply, short and flat like his usual, the same flair of a lottery announcer. 

"I can see he cares a lot about you."

"Is this your way to give us your blessing, or…?"

She laughed shortly, and she sounded so much like Sakusa that Atsumu’s chest tightened on instinct, as it did every time he heard _him_ laugh. "I’m wondering if you care about him too."

"Of course I do."

"He seems… a little lonely." And _how,_ Atsumu wondered, could a woman he’d barely just met have already figured out the deepest part of what he was trying so hard to hide from everyone, first of all himself, too scared to admit it outloud.

"I know," Sakusa said again, and this time he sighed. "I’m trying."

"Are you serious with him?" she asked suddenly, almost cutting him off.

"What do you mean?" 

"Do you plan on making it last?"

"What kind of question is that? Mum, I… I don’t know. Yes. I… I want to - make it last. Of course I do."

"Maybe you… shouldn’t."

"Mum!"

"No, no wait, that came out wrong! I’m just… I’m trying to protect you. It’s your first time dating someone and… I’m just worried. That if you get too attached and then somehow he breaks up with you… Listen, you have to remember you’re still young, and there’s no rush to settle down."

"Ugh. Mum. Why are you saying that? Is… is it because he’s a guy?" he sounded so uncertain it made Atsumu’s heart do a flip in his chest.

"No!" she was quick to amend, "No, I’m saying it from experience. Remember your sister?"

Atsumu heard him sigh, "Yeah, right."

"I don’t want you to get hurt."

"Okay. But… I think we’re cool. I… I think he’s… uhm."

"The one?" Atsumu could hear the little smirk in her voice. 

"There’s no such thing," Sakusa replied, hashly, "I just meant that I’ve never… _liked_ anyone. Not in the way I like him. And— I mean, I think… he’s—"

"It’s okay. As long as you know what you’re doing, I trust you Kiyoomi. As long as you’re sure he loves you just as much as you love him." 

"I’m sure."

"I am too." 

Atsumu rested his head against the wall, and closed his eyes. 

Yes, he was lonely, and he was an asshole, but he was in love, and he felt like crying because he never thought he would be able to ever feel something as big as this. 

And because Sakusa _knew_. He knew he cared, he knew he loved him. They might not say it often, but Atsumu knew Sakusa loved him, he knew it in the way he pinched his sleeve when he didn’t feel like touching his hand, he knew it in the little smiles, he knew it in the way he allowed him to go into his spaces, in the way he let him move things around and make himself comfortable, in the way he reached out, even when he wouldn’t normally do it, to cheer him up, to offer company, to fix his collar, to kiss his forehead. 

"I’m gonna go check on him," he heard Sakusa say, and Atsumu snapped out of it, padding back a few steps and pretending he was just arriving when Sakusa passed the threshold. 

"Hey," he greeted, and got a look in return that was a very clear sign that Sakusa knew he’d been listening. 

He smiled innocently and said his goodbye to his mother, profusely thanking her for the hospitality, and she laughed, and patted his shoulder, and gave him a piece of her lemon cake to take home. 

Atsumu sat in the car with his boyfriend (who was a way too responsible driver, in Atsumu's humble opinion, wouldn’t even look at his very handsome boyfriend in the passenger seat not to pry his eyes away from the road), and smiled at the city lights zooming by outside the window, cradling the cake in his lap, and just silently taking in the presence of the person next to him. It was just like the smell of lemon, sweet and sour, sharp and familiar, making your eyes sting from the comfort of having it near. 

  
  


<<< _epilogue_ >>>

Kiyoomi used to be lonely. 

He’d never cared much about company, there had always been Komori after all, tagging along just because he had to, and there had always been volleyball. For a long time, he’d never needed anything else. 

He’d constructed a safehouse for himself, and felt safe leaving it only when he could step on a court to play.

And then he met Miya Atsumu, maybe one of the most annoying people in the planet, who pushed his way into his life without reserves, and yanked the roof away from Kiyoomi’s carefully crafted refuge, only to replace it with a lousy torn tarp that let the wind and the rain in. The thing was, this way Kiyoomi got to see a bit of the sky, in between the gaps, and even if he could try to ignore it, now he knew it was there. That if he only looked up he’d see it again, barely a glimpse, but still beautiful. The catch was that, every time he indulged in it, it left him wanting more. He wanted to see the whole sky, feel the wind on his face, get his hair wet in the rain. 

Little by little, with time and care, Atsumu helped him get the tarp down, and brought an umbrella. 

And they both fit under there. 

That was maybe the most surprising thing of all.

Atsumu _fit_. 

And Kiyoomi gave him the keys. 

He had never wanted to share with anyone. The thought of having to change something to accommodate another person just didn’t sit right with him. 

He didn’t have to change anything for Atsumu, he simply settled in like he’d always been there, making himself comfortable, and Kiyoomi didn’t mind it. He _liked_ it. 

Kiyoomi wasn’t good with feelings, and he wasn’t good with words, not the ones that counted, but Atsumu wasn’t very good either, and Kiyoomi realized that they didn’t need to be. 

Atsumu asked for permission, he washed his hands twice more often than he used to, he wiped down the groceries for him before putting them away, he learned to listen (with time and in the hard way, but he did). And yes, they fought a lot over stupid things and not-so-stupid things too, but Kiyoomi heard it, in every gesture, in every hand clenched in his clothes to keep it from reaching out, in every glance, in every feather-like finger mindlessly tracing constellations on his skin, he heard a silent screamed ‘I love you’, and he silently screamed it back. 

Because he used to be lonely, but now he was not anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT OWN THE PANASONIC PANTHERS lmao i tried coming up with a name for a made up team but I couldn't... so I just searched for existing teams based in Osaka completely at random and found them... Such a cool name god, i know nothing of volleyball but i'd root for them only based on the name.  
> Anyway! Leave kudos and a comment if you've enjoyed it! It's always appreciated :) and if you want to come scream at me about official art confirming that sakusa atsumu and bokuto stay in the jackals at least until the 2021 olympics you can find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/dr-awkward221b), [tumblr 2 (my art blog)](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/m-art-i), or [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/m_art_i_)!


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